1945
by Edward slept with Poison Akii
Summary: A historic trip back in time to 1945. Book altered slightly Esme is still human, and Carlisle is falling for her. But when he leaves, what kind of mess is he leaving behind? Rated M for something that's coming.


Chapter 1 - August 14, 1945

I slowly stepped out into the rain, letting the water fall on my face as my breath caught.

Was that really him? I'd only recently seen him again. He was supposed to be leaving the area soon. Why was he here? I hadn't given him my address, not even my telephone number.

All of that aside, he shouldn't be alone on a day as great as today. The world over was celebrating today, August 14, the day that the worst war we'd yet to face had finally come to an end. The Japanese surrender, the bombings, the mass of contradictions and lies that were told during such a time had come to an end. And yet, I was drastically wanted it all back. The war was barely over and I was missing it. I wiped my finger under my eye to notice that I had started crying.

Because as soon as Helen and I had heard the news that it was all over, that the Japanese had surrendered, I knew what that really meant, what it meant to me. It meant that he would be coming home. Charles would be coming back to me, and my life would be back to the horrid place that it had been before.

He was just standing there, watching the rain fall gently to the ground, splattering against the roof of the gazebo and running down the snow white poles that radiated warmth in the moonlight. He was dressed casually; a simple white shirt and black pants that made his hair seem so gold it might as well have been solid sunlight.

"Esme," he breathed, catching his golden eyes with mine. "I… Are you crying?"

I nodded humbly and took another step out in the rain. "It's just that…" My voice trailed off into the night, leaving only his mind to fantasize what was wrong. My tears kept coming and coming as the tears turned to shoulder-wrenching sobs and broken whines, and I gave up any attempt to hide it.

He stepped out of the shelter and walked toward me, staring at me in a way that said he didn't why I was crying, but he could tell it was awful. Ladies weren't supposed to be so emotional and vulnerable in front of men.

I blinked a few times, trying to compose myself. When I closed my eyes, he was walking the path toward me, and when I opened them, I felt his cold chest against my back, almost making me shiver. He was cold as stone, but I found his embrace more comfortable and warm than anything anyone had ever done to me before.

His hands wrapped around my waist, crossing each other over my stomach so that he formed a cage with me safe inside his arms. Here was a place I was comfortable in, a place that I felt safe from Charles and people like him. A place where I belonged.

I opened my mouth to explain that I was fine, but before I could say much, my feet were swept out from under me. But I wasn't falling. My whole being was suspended as he carried me like a baby to the gazebo. Being held like this made me cry harder at the thought of Charles and how much I wished he'd held me like this.

I felt the rain stop as we reached the center of the gazebo. "Are you alright?" he asked, pulling me closer to his chest.

"I- I- I think I'm fine," I managed, breathing raggedly. "You may put me down now."

"I don't think you could stand up," he wagered. "It's no trouble."

"Why are you here? Do you need something?"

"Yes, I have something I have to tell you. But first, I need you to tell me something. What is there in all this world that might make you cry like that?"

I shook my head. "Well, mostly the war."

"What about the war?"

"Its over," I said quietly, my voice blending easily into the falling rain. However, his face showed me that he understood what I had said just fine, just not what I meant by it. That was to be understood, after all; Almost everyone in the world was happy that the war was over.

"It's over?" he asks, obviously not expecting that was what had upset me.

"Yes, it ended. He's coming home," I blubbered, my voice cracking and fizzling as I cried into his shoulder. I could feel the tears welling up as I thought of Charles. Coming home. The thought made me shiver. The thought alone made me terrified.

"Who's coming home?" Carlisle whispered gently in my ear.

"Charles. My… husband." I shuddered as I choked out the word. I grabbed onto Carlisle's arm with both of my hands and clung to him as hard as I could. I could barely keep myself breathing, let alone calm or sane.

"Why is that bad?" he asked gently.

"He hits me, Carlisle! He hits me!!" I screeched, thrashing around within the stone grip of his arms. I must have been in hysteria or something of the like; I'd never been one to behave improperly in the presence of a man.

I had this feeling. It hurt like I was being stabbed in the chest, again and again. I dug my nails into his arm, gripping him so hard it's impossible to know how he wasn't hurt. I was hurting so much remembering him I thought I might break. I tried to keep my mind from going back there, but it was impossible.

"Why are you here?" he'd bellowed. "Why would you expect me to care what happens to you?!?!"

I had just stared at him aimlessly, unsure whether I believed this was real enough for me to be afraid. I had never done anything wrong; I'd kept the house and done the cooking and the cleaning. I'd done what I was asked my entire life just so that I could be considered a valuable member of society.

His hand had come crashing down hard; slamming into my shoulder with such force I fell backward. I hit my head on the table, and it started to bleed. I then lost consciousness, so I don't remember much else. That night was one of many nights I suffered like that.

I looked up through my tears to see that Carlisle's face was hard and angry. "No one deserves to be treated like that. There's no excuse for someone being treated like they are not important. I'm so, so sorry.

"But Esme," Carlisle whispered, almost begging. "I came here to visit you one last time. I'm moving away in the next few days. I have been offered a different job, one that pays more money than they pay me here, and at a time like this that's my priority. I'm sorry."

I blinked again, this time to try to clear my eyes. I understood what he meant. Money was money and money was something we could all use a little more of right now. I knew that coming out of the war, it might get better, but at the same time my life would get worse. "I understand," I breathed.

He laughed a little. "Then why are you holding me so tightly your fingers might break?"

I had not noticed I was doing it. I loosened my grip on him as he set me upright. My feet buckled a little bit as I put weight on my legs for the first time in a while. He caught my arms and held me up again from behind.

"Thank you," I said meekly.

"May I have this dance?" he asked.

I nodded slowly. "I have never been a good dancer," I cautioned him. My experience as a dancer was limited to the occasional public dance with Charles, and all that that entitled was letting him dance around me while I stayed still.

"Its fine," he assured me.

I felt one hand grip my waist tightly, probably to keep me from falling again, then the other holding my hand solidly. I held his hand tightly as well, just because I wasn't entirely sure that I wouldn't fall over either.

When I heard him start to hum a waltz, I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified. A waltz was rather simple to do, a repeat of the first six beats for most of the dance, but I was not really sure how to do it.

I felt my feet start to move beneath me right when they were supposed to. It was almost surreal, dancing with someone as perfect as God himself. And I did not feel like I was terrible in comparison. I felt as though we were equal, though we were not.

"I thought you didn't dance," he accused.

"I don't," I confessed. "I really have no idea how I know this."

"It is magic for such a magical night," he said, spinning me out on one of his hands. My skirts twirled out, my fingers were delicately holding his one hand, and my face was bright enough to light up the dark night sky.

"Yes, it is magical, isn't it?" I asked, getting back in step.

As I became more and more absorbed in the dance, the awkwardness between Carlisle and I seemed to dissolve. I felt my hands gripping him tighter. I felt my body moving closer to his. It was impossible to feel awkward. I couldn't help but wonder why I felt so comfortable with a man I'd barely known a week.

But when his humming dissolved off into the rain, I knew that meant it was all over.

"Esme," he sighed. "I need to go." He moved his hands slowly down so that they fit around my back.

"I know," I replied regretfully.

"But there is one more thing I want to do, if I may be so bold."

"Go on, then," I encouraged him.

I felt his hands slowly creep up my back, catching me off guard. I returned the favor and placed my hands on his shoulders gently. I was just touching my hands down on his shoulders when I felt his lips molding softly to mine.

Just as I was getting used to his kiss, he was gone, merely a streak of white that flashed a crossed the woods. But as he left I'd swear I heard him mutter "We'll be together again."

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Chapter two - August 21, 1945

But that beloved perfection could not last. There was only so long I could drift about blissfully in the peace of my mind before reality came crashing down on me. Carlisle had to leave, and that meant I had to go back to Charles. That was inevitable.

When I went to meet Charles in the plane yard, I knew that my time had run out.

"Esme, darling!" he called, running a crossed the lot like a fool. His smile was broad as his face and incredibly fake. It was just a part of the show he put on for people elsewhere so that no one bothered to look too closely. "I've missed you!"

"As have I, Charles," I said crisply, staying in my place. "You're hair is so long; it might be best to get it cut soon."

He smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess it has grown, hasn't it? Gosh, I've just missed you." His hands felt warm on the low of my back. I shivered at his touch.

His face was near mine then. "Have you been nice?" He hissed in my ear. I could feel his breath hard on my face. "I hope you haven't done something you aren't proud of."

I didn't respond immediately. I froze, staring out into space. Had I been nice? Had I really been with Carlisle in such a way it violated my marriage and my religion? Had I defiled myself with another man who was better than the one that was mine?

"Just get off of me," I hissed, jerking myself to the side. "Marriage is by the law; love is by the soul."

His hands didn't move. "I do not recall saying I loved you," he muttered. His hands moved up a bit, so they held me behind my chest. One hand held the back of my neck tightly between his thumb and index finger, while the other hand was sprawled a crossed my back.

Then suddenly he turned around. He hefted up his leather bag and said "Let us be headed home, dear Esme! I think we'd best get our rest this fine evening!" He smiled that awful smile again.

And as he grabbed my elbow and sharply pulled me after him, I heard him say "A wretch like you is lucky to have someone as fine as I am."

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